Retribution
by venis-envy
Summary: Draco and Harry have forged a secret friendship over their last year at Hogwarts. When school comes to an end, can they keep what they have, or will responsibilities to the world pull them apart? HPDM, ewe, post war, seventh year. Slash!


**Warnings:**

Possible sensitive subject matter. This oneshot contains brief mention of attempted suicide/self-harm and depression. But in all actuality, I'm a very sunny, happy person...

**Disclaimer: ******

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their  
respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.  
The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any  
media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Harry and Draco are not mine, but if they were, I assure you, they'd smile much more often. I always feel kind of bad about how short my H/D oneshots are. It's like comparing penis sizes in a locker room full of naked and well endowed young men. *blushes and grabs a towel*

Many thanks to my dear friend, glitteratiglue. She pre-reads all my HPDM for me to make sure I'm not being too American. Also, to nowforruin who betad this one for me.

**Retribution **

He'd only ever had a vague idea of where his life was going, never allowing for much hope, not planning for a future beyond the war that he was so positive would be his end. As he sat under the stars on his last night at Hogwarts, Draco found himself almost wishing again that it had turned out that way.

It wasn't unlike any other night for Draco since the reconstruction of the school. He had gone through his day attending classes as expected—even though it was no longer necessary for the students who were completing their N.E.W.T. examinations—and when the day had come to a close, and his classmates had dwindled out of the Great Hall to their respective dormitories, Draco broke away and snuck up to the Astronomy Tower.

That is where it should have ended for him, all of it. The trials and tribulations of his young life, the suffering and torture, the fear and uncertainty, it all should have ceased for him on that fateful night. If only someone would have killed him and put him out of his misery. He hadn't wanted to follow through with the task he'd been appointed, but what other choice did he have? His family was at risk, his hands were tied, and despite the weak attempts he'd made on Dumbledore's life, he had never wanted to be a murderer. He had been certain someone would run to the old man's rescue and end Draco's suffering.

In the aftermath of the war, the wizarding world was able to pick up the broken pieces and move on. Hogwarts had been restored and classes had continued as soon as it was possible. Draco's father had been sentenced to five years in Azkaban, a just retribution in Draco's opinion, for here he was, nearly two years later, still suffering from the choices his father had made for him.

During his recent time at Hogwarts, Draco found himself lacking the friends and admirers he'd once had. Even Pansy kept her distance. No one was sure what to think, whether he should have been forgiven so immediately and welcomed back, or carted off to Azkaban with his father. It was only through the kind words of Professor McGonagall and Harry Potter that he was able to finish his schooling with the hopes of salvaging some kind of future for himself.

Harry sodding Potter. The Saviour of the Wizarding World. The Boy Who Lived. The only fucking person who didn't cringe away from Draco, who didn't look at him with contempt or disdain. They had developed a sort of unspoken friendship over the last year since an unexpected coincidence had brought them together. Draco had sat alone one night in the shadowed areas atop the Astronomy Tower, his mind filled with a different set of intentions than usual, when who should arrive but The Saviour himself. It seemed Potter fancied escaping to the Astronomy Tower as well once in a while for reasons of his own.

Of all the people to stumble onto Draco that night, it had to have been Harry Potter. The Boy Who Couldn't Just Leave Things Alone. Always trying to save the world, and just as the silver blade dropped from Draco's hand, blood from his deeply cut forearm dripping from his fingertips and pooling on the cold stone floor, Potter stepped into view. His green eyes were made even brighter by the light of the moon and the intensity of his shock. Draco pulled his discarded robes from the ground beside him in an attempt to cover his self-inflicted wound, but even if the fabric had covered the gash, there was still so much blood he couldn't hide.

Harry dropped to his knees beside Draco, not speaking as he forcefully snatched the robes away to inspect his arm. Draco made to pull away, angry and ashamed that he'd been caught, but utterly mortified that Potter had been the one who had caught him. Potters grip was firm, though, his fingers wrapped tightly around Draco's wrist just below the lowest point of the cut as he pulled the bleeding arm back toward him for further examination.

Draco couldn't quite remember the exact words he had spoken to Potter that night, but he knew they weren't pleasant. He wanted to say anything he could to drive him away, hurt him with words until Potter left him to his fate. Potter didn't budge though, whispering a familiar incantation that mended Draco's open artery and knitted his broken skin, restoring the cursed Dark Mark into one nearly flawless work as he intermittently shot Draco indignant glares. Draco knew it would have been easier to have thrown himself from the tower, but he wanted the satisfaction of cutting through the abhorrent Dark Mark and draining his fucking pure blood to end his life. He had wanted that to be his one true act of defiance—his final "fuck you" to everyone who had ever expected anything of him.

But like every other time, Potter had ruined his plans. No one had ever interrupted him on the tower so late at night. He had never expected that night to be any different.

"You think I haven't thought of doing that myself a time or two?" Potter had asked after a long period of uncomfortable eye contact that Draco refused to relinquish.

Draco didn't respond. Harry sat down next to him, his back against the wall, knees drawn up with his forearms resting on them. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the night, and the following evening, Potter followed him there again.

Eventually, Draco did talk, and he may have told Potter his shameful feelings of regret and self-hatred only because he had no one else to say those things to, but over time, he became the only person Draco _wanted _to talk to. But it was only there on that tower that they could be so free and open with each other. Their routine continued throughout the school year, finding each other there on the Astronomy Tower, some meetings more light-hearted than others, sometimes pouring their souls into words to share with each other, sometimes not speaking at all, looking at all things introspectively. Draco had never admitted it to him, but Potter had filled the empty spaces inside him with his very presence, the warmth of his smile, his silent understanding. Draco could finally see what everyone else had all those years.

And now that the N.E.W.T.s were through and their final school year was coming to a close, Draco felt that familiar hole opening back up, painful and slow. There was nothing he could do to slow the time and delay the inevitable.

Draco's hands rested on the top of the lowest wall as he gazed out over the darkened grounds of the school. A dim light glowed from the reconstructed hut of the groundskeeper. Draco imagined Harry was down there, probably saying his final farewell before he came to give Draco the same speech.

Draco wasn't sure how was going to handle that. He had come to rely on Harry over time, and he liked to think that Harry relied on him a bit as well, but over the last week, their conversations had dwindled. Each night, they'd meet on the Astronomy Tower and while they sat closer to one another, they spoke less. Draco's future was undecided. He wasn't even sure he'd return to the Manor again except to gather a few of his belongings. What he was certain of though, was that the easy, comfortable friendship he'd forged with Harry under the cover of the stars was about to come to an abrupt halt. There would be no more deep conversations hidden under the darkened skies, no more careful smiles in the light of the moon, no more stolen glances across the Great Hall when no one else was looking, no more secret kisses that never lead to anything more despite how badly Draco wanted them to—and now they never would.

Draco's eyes stung at the thought. He rubbed his hand down his face exasperatedly, releasing an audible sigh. He wasn't sure where he was going once he left that place, but one thing he was certain of was that he _did_ have options. And thanks to Harry, his own demise was no longer the most promising. He knew he'd have to finally thank Harry properly for that, for being there and talking to him, for convincing him that there were other ways. He wasn't quite sure how to do that without making himself out to be a sap. He'd let very few emotions play through his cool facade throughout their time together, and he wished there was a way to tell Harry how he really felt without shattering the image he'd maintained. He couldn't get back the years of his life that he'd lost already, but he hoped that he could make the rest of them better for it.

There was a point in time where Draco wanted to have everything; he had wanted to be known to the world and looked upon as someone important and prominent. Now all that mattered to him was to mean something to one person. And not just any one person, but the one he couldn't ever seem to stop thinking about.

He felt his body relax infinitesimally as he sensed a comfortable presence approaching.

"Do you sneak up on me with the hopes of catching me doing something I shouldn't be?" Draco asked as Harry pulled his invisibility cloak off of himself and sat on the low wall beside him.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he almost absentmindedly reached out and grabbed Harry by the shoulder, pulling him off the wall. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to lose his balance and plummet to the earth below.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Harry said with a small, pained smile that Draco did not return. Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a small silver knife. "I thought you might want this back." With an arched eyebrow, Draco reached out tentatively to accept the object offered to him. "I think you're okay now. Smarter than that, at any rate."

Draco nodded, wrapping his fingers tightly around the folded knife.

The silence stretched out between them, Draco continuing to stare out over the grounds that were too dark to see, while Harry watched him instead. Draco didn't want to speak. He wanted to drag the night out as long as he possibly could, and if silence accomplished that, he would remain that way until the sunrise forced words from his lips. But he knew Harry wouldn't let it be that easy.

"What now?" he asked, not taking his eyes off Draco.

Standing up to his full height, Draco crossed his arms over his chest, turning to face him finally. He shook his head before answering. "The future is ours for the taking, I suppose." The reply sounded far more natural than it felt. He wanted to say, "What about us?" or, "Please don't let this be it," but he knew that he'd already shown too much weakness in the face of the other man.

"It doesn't sound like you've actually settled on a path since we last discussed this," said Harry.

"I think I'll wait to see my testing scores first. What about you?"

Harry smiled and sank to the ground, his back against the wall in his usual position, and waited for Draco to join him. When he did, Harry reached over, idly tracing his fingers along the narrow scar that cut through Draco's Dark Mark. His fingers were warm against the marked skin that always seemed to be a few degrees below Draco's own body temperature. It was almost enough to sooth the ache he felt in his chest. Draco was grateful to accept anything at all that Harry offered, be it a touch, a kiss, even a simple smile, but in that moment, he felt as though he would cease to exist if Harry took his hand off of him for even a second.

"I'm going to do a bit of travelling, I think. Take some time away from responsibility before I decide what I want to do," said Harry.

"What about your girlfriend?" The words had left Draco's lips before he had a chance to question their intention. He had known Harry was no longer dating the Weasley girl, but Draco had always believed that once Harry was out of school, the two of them would pick things back up again. "I mean...will you be leaving her behind while she finishes school, or do you think she'll come with you?" Draco didn't want to seem jealous, although he couldn't deny to himself that he was, but he honestly didn't want to think of Harry alone out there with no one to talk to, no one to share his burdens, no one keep him company.

Harry laughed dryly. "My girlfriend?"

"Mmm," Draco hummed noncommittally. "Never much paid attention to her name. Ginger, was it? Jaunty?"

"I assume you mean Ginny?" Harry cut in, interrupting Draco's ramble.

"Probably that one then," he confirmed.

"Ginny and I haven't been together since before the war. You know that, you git."

"I don't much pay attention."

"Clearly," Harry responded. He probably didn't think Draco had noticed him scoot a little closer before turning his piercing green gaze on him. "I was sort of hoping... _you_ would come with me," he said before looking away again quickly. "I mean, I know you probably have bigger things going on, but it wouldn't have to be a long trip."

Draco didn't answer, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. Of course he would like nothing more than to stay with Harry, to spend as much time with him as humanly possible before the responsibilities of adulthood tore them apart.

"I just..." Harry swallowed loudly. Draco could see that Harry was slightly uncomfortable. He wanted to move closer, to press his lips to Harry's neck in the way he knew brought the other man comfort and assure him that there wasn't anything he couldn't say. "I'm just not really ready to say goodbye to you," Harry said finally, voicing the thoughts that had been stirring in Draco's own mind relentlessly for the last week.

Draco looked down at the space between them, wondering how such a small area could still feel like too much. "I think I can manage that," he replied before looking up and meeting Harry's eyes again.

An unashamed smile spread across Harry's face and despite his best efforts to hold back, Draco couldn't help the small tug at the corner of his mouth as he smiled in return. Harry closed the distance between them, looking somewhat reluctant until Draco finally took hold of his hand, lacing their fingers together. It wasn't anything unusual for them, but somehow it felt different, more significant.

There was a long moment of silence between them before Harry's free hand moved around the back of Draco's neck, pulling him closer. Their lips brushed together tentatively, as if both of them were asking permission of each other, neither certain enough to take what they want, until Draco finally summoned his own courage. His lips pressed against Harry's, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin, so close, so warm. Draco's tongue dragged gently across Harry's bottom lip, tasting him and testing the bounds he knew had dissolved between them long ago. As Harry's lips parted, he leaned forward to deepen the kiss, reassuring Draco that his feelings were reflected equally. The warm slide of tongues and mingled hot breaths was electrifying and too soon, Draco found himself pulling back for air.

"It doesn't have to be anything more than what we have now," Harry whispered softly, his warm breath caressing Draco's lips.

His response was out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop it. "I do want more," he said, and because it was already too late to stop himself, he added, "I want everything with you." He wasn't even entirely sure that last part had been spoken aloud.

Harry brushed his lips tenderly across Draco's again. "What if I told you I won't _ever _be ready to let you go?"

"I don't answer to anyone anymore. If you aren't ashamed to be with me after all we've said and done to each other in the past–"

"I'm not ashamed of you, Draco," Harry interrupted. "If I'd thought you were all right with it, I would have done all this in the Great Hall in front of everyone." He leaned in and kissed Draco again, more urgently and demanding than the last time. When they finally broke apart, panting and aroused and still clinging to each other with furious need, Harry whispered almost inaudibly, "I love you."

Draco almost laughed as acute relief skittered through him. "I'm so fucking glad you said that first," he admitted in a breathless whisper. There was little else that Draco feared anymore quite as much as putting himself out there, vulnerable and open and at the mercy of another person. And though Harry wasn't just _any _other person, he'd still rather not. "I love you, too, Harry."

It felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted off Draco's shoulders as the words finally left him, and as their eyes met, the reality of his future finally took hold. Draco had known for quite some time that he wanted Harry all to himself, but he'd never actually allowed himself to believe it was possible.

"I'm keeping you," Draco said, and that time there was no mistaking the words were real as Harry nodded in accord. Draco moved forward, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Harry's neck as he wrapped his arms around him. Harry relaxed into him, the way he always did when Draco nuzzled against his neck, and Draco felt all of his uncertainties melt away. Suddenly his words from earlier didn't seem all that unnatural. The future really _was_ theirs for the taking. And he felt it was possible to accomplish anything at all as long as he had Harry by his side.


End file.
